En garde!

I just finished my first game after a hiatus of many years. My passion is as strong as ever - two minds battling on a few squares of colors. As a child, I mostly played against my older brothers or my father which means... I learned a lot, mainly how to lose graciously.
My husband did not like to lose and so we quickly stopped playing against each other. He much preferred the computer where he could alternate being himself and then the computer when his luck ran out.
I have read at least three stories where men become obsessed with the game, with dire consequences in all cases. As this is a mind game, it makes perfect sense that a life could be ruined by thoughts gone wild. To me, playing chess trumps all other games - more fun than cards because all things are equal; more fun than sports because the intellect and emotions are more solicited; more fun than any other board games though I must confess not knowing how to play go.
I can't wait for our next encounter on tomorrow's battleground.

En garde!

Nord perdu

Nancy Huston's musings on belonging strike home again. An English Canadian who made her home in France, Huston is forever à cheval between cultures. She brilliantly details subtle and not-so-subtle instances of gotchas (when people remark she used the wrong gender agreement and 'outs' her as an outsider) and plain foreignness.
She expresses the pain of being displaced wherever she is - the inevitable chasm created by the day-to-day activities not shared by those who stayed behind. They know a certain part of you, but not the everyday fabric of your life and so, visiting friends back in Canada, she is immersed in her childhood which only takes into account part of the total person she has become.
A reflection on growth, change, expectations and the need to belong all wrapped up in one beautifully crafted little book.

GPS-challenged

I got a GPS for Christmas! Surely I will never get lost again? But, wait! You are talking to a pro.

No, seriously, I love my GPS. We had to make a few adjustments though: why is it annoyed that I am on the Queensway? Why is it urging me to take the off-ramp again and again while running a parallel route? Why does it never ever suggest I use the highway though it is clearly the quickest way home? Why does it tell me I will be there in 6 hours instead of 45 minutes? I checked the clock ad I have the right time. What is it I forgot?? (obviously, to read the User's manual)

You can actually use the GPS to get around on foot and I seemed to have accidentally changed the parameter from driving to walking.... So - no highway for me - ever, ever, ever - and well, I walk very quickly (never a word of praise though).

We used it while going to a friend's place (with the walking setting) and it kept telling us to get off the Queensway. After a while, it started sulking (I called it "my GPS with an attitude") and basically ignored us. We thought it was hilarious and I started making up conversation with it. I am sure it could be a hit at parties.

Another thing is it can't find our address so we can't tell it to "Go Home" (well, we tricked it and we can now but I am talking early days). On an overcast day, it took so long to give me directions that I called home to get directions (no I didn't have a map in the car - I NEED a GPS, ok?).

Another time, I followed a circuitous road home (I was on the walking setting so no highway for me). You don't have to plug it in when it is charged so I didn't. It was a dark night, I was in a place I didn't know) when... the battery stopped dead. I was clearly impressed. I actually, I started laughing and fumbled a bit before plugging it back in (no there was no irate driver behind me. You have to be thankful for lonely deserted roads). I disregarded its instructions and headed for the highway... It kept recalculating and frantically trying to lure me away. I thought I had received a neurotic GPS. Turns out it's only as smart as you are and... it turns out I could be smarter.

What I found interesting was that I discovered I had habits I did not know I had, shortcuts I enjoy, places I avoid. It made me more aware of my likes and dislikes and so I can use it as a tool of self-discovery. I think it is a hidden benefit.

Folders of life

A while back, I cleaned out the basement and cluttered up my office with papers to file to. I finally got around to filing last week-end and noticed something interesting. I created 4 big folders: Correspondence (memorabilia from friends and family); Creativity (hobbies or projects other than scrapbooking); Work (resume, leads, etc) and Travel. The funny thing is the relative weight of each. Creativity is by far my lightest item (though that fact is skewed as most of the rest of my desk is taken up with scrapbooking-related paraphernalia) with work being the heaviest and fullest of the 4. Now that tells me that my work balance might be a bit off. I was happy to see that my relationships folder was quite healthy and bulgy (though I need to improve on the travel one). In a way, it is a nice summary of how my life has been divided. It was a nice bonus from the de-cluttering process: I got a bit of clarity and reflection on my life.

Art (part 2)

Putting a positive spin on things seems to run in the family. I was browsing my brother's site on flickr when I came across this picture:


Anybody who has ever been bullied cringes when they see sneakers on a telephone line. My brother? Makes them into a work of art.

Art that speaks to me is often social commentary.

I must say I love this one.

Act of beauty

My mom told me a good story today.
She has been totally appalled and disgusted by acts of vandalism against city property, namely people breaking windows of bus shelters. She takes the bus quite often and has watched the seemingly endless cycle of those windows being broken and replaced just to be broken again. She has stood helplessly on the sidelines, fuming. For those of you who know my mom, you know something's gotta give.
Since she retired, my mom has been doing watercolours with a passion. She has always looked around for inspiration and the other day, she saw it in a window that had been shattered but not broken. The shattering was in the shape of a star, which she dutifully copied in her notebook. Then she saw another shattered window, with a "better-looking" star, which she also copied down. She was inspired to write a poem (which I asked her to send me) and was moved the next day to post it beside the star... thereby transforming it in an act of beauty. She was amazed at her own boldness!

I dreamt I was a butterfly

I just woke up from an unsettling dream in which I was taking a language class. It seems I was at the intermediate level. I usually stopped by the beginner's class at 5:00 after work to say hi to my best friend M. who took that class, then moved on to my own. On the day of the dream, I couldn't remember what time I was due in class. At 5:00, I was eating chips (another unusual event) when the phone rang from a language provider from work, asking how they were doing. They implied that I now had to answer this very loaded question because of some reason I couldn't understand. They wanted to know because they were bidding for a new projects and wanted to get some assurance they would get chosen. I answered noncommittally, but in a very assured voice and they were satisfied and hung up. My body told me I was supposed to be elsewhere; I was also given to understand that M. had called her father to know if I had called him to say I couldn't show up. As I was walking to catch the bus, I had to go up a hill and I couldn't figure out where the bus was supposed to come from. One went past (not mine), so I headed that way. Some people were waiting, milling around. I was trying to make sense of the routes. There was a disturbance (a fight, maybe? pushing? shoving? - no yelling). I can't remember now but I think I woke up before getting to class. I woke up and thought Alzheimer - which is what makes this confused dream interesting.

To my mind, these could be clues in how Alzheimer progresses: what is most interesting to me is the lack of affect. Dreams where you are late for class are common and they usually signal anxiety - the kind you feel as a child and which you use as a symbol from then on. In this dream, though I felt the class interested me (and the dream specifies it was a language class, which is a sure sign I wouldn't miss it) I wasn't rattled by the fact that I might be late or miss it entirely. There is also the lack of affect in regards to work and the fact that someone was blatantly trying to take advantage of this perceived flaw. I could tell my thoughts were muddled but did not want it to show. Also, my body let me know I usually should be doing a certain thing (on Tuesdays, you get ready for class) and I felt restless. My response was to eat chips - totally inappropriate and out of character. I wonder if there is a lack of sodium in sufferers of Alzheimer?

I remember the last years of my grandma - she was confused and afraid and then slowly dispassionate though anxious. I wonder if by studying dreams you could see the progression in Alzheimer's patients.

Culture Shock

I started my new job last Tuesday and, well, I was in for a surprise. I spent all my working life either working in high tech for big corporations or freelancing. And now for something completely different...

Differences:
- I bring a book to work and actually have time to read while I wait for my ride (instead of working).
- I work in a noisy open environment (as opposed to a quiet open environment)
- the complexity of the work is 2/10 rather than 9/10
- everybody is bilingual French/English or English/French as opposed to Russian/French or Chinese/English
- I had one meeting last week. One.
- I don't have email yet, and it doesn't hurt my productivity (heck! it might even enhance it)
- ditto for the Internet

Ok, so I am just starting. But still, this is SOOOO promising! ; -)

Give me an R...

Here’s a fun game I got from XY x2:

Comment on this post and I’ll give you a letter. List ten things you LOVE which begin with that letter, then post this in your journal and give out some letters of your own.

She gave me the letter R. Here’s my list:

Red - Vibrant, alive and cheerful.

Reading - I spend most of my free time immersed in books. I have been doing that since childhood. I still haven't come up with a definitive list of the books to bring on a desert island (that will be for another post).

Roger - that's my dad. He used to sing to us: "J'aime papa, j'aime maman, j'aime mon p'tit chien, mon p'tit chat, mon p'tit frère/J'aime papa, j'aime maman, j'aime mon p'tit chien et mon cerf-volant." That should get anybody's priorities straight.

Red Sails - lyrics from Bowie. On his Lodger LP. Anything by Bowie, really. He was my favorite singer all my teenage years (I can't say I listen much to him these days).

Le rhinocéros- a marvelously absurd play from Eugène Ionesco. I first saw it in the 1980s with my then-boyfriend who absolutely didn't get it. I should have known right then and there that our relationship was doomed...

Rabbits! - I just love them! It seems I am a rabbit (or hare) in Asian horoscopes. That's fine by me. Maybe it's my totem too?

Running - not in an organized way, mind you. I just love starting to run for no reason, for the sheer pleasure of feeling my muscles respond to my whim, for the fun of speed and the joy of freedom.

Rain - I like thunderstorms ("St. Peter playing bowling" my grandma would say), my mom's memory of rain (school was out if it rained hard because it would flood the dry riverbed and they couldn't cross it; rain is full of hope) and well... rain in and of itself.

Railways - We lived near railways many, many times. They are part of the fabric of myself. I once walked to another town on the railway - it clearly is the shortest route. My brothers boarded merchandise trains for the fun of it (I wasn't supposed to know as I was too young for those dangerous games).

Revolution - Ah well, I love change. Peaceful revolution is certainly the best kind with evolving attitudes and technology.

Culture Shock

A demolition derby is an excellent place to experience a shock to the system. The idea itself is preposterous: line up some cars, have them crash into one other. The referees decide who wins between the last cars left running. There are obviously rules (there are referees and they get to settle matters); the referees direct the drivers to be more aggressive, from what we could see. We got the impression that the more hits you distribute, the higher you rated.

We went to a demolition derby last week-end. The words "white trash" were never far from our lips. It's a wonder to be in a stand with hundreds of spectators, watching cars run into each other for the purpose of giving a show. Is that how the decadent Romans felt watching the gladiators fight to the death? We are taught to take care of our cars and feel bad when you are in an accident but crashing and getting run into is the whole point of this game.
I wonder if people enjoy seeing the transgression acted out? Is it some kind of release by proxy? We were left with a feeling of unease - for having enjoyed some of it? Strange hobby...

Quick and Dirty

My life has been pretty busy lately and I have been meaning to blog again and again. So here are the news, briefly:
- We bought ourselves a light touring kayak at Jenda Paddlesports, close to home. The idea was to have a light boat that one person could handle singly i.e. put on the car, drive away, put in water and back. That way, we don't have to wait for everybody to feel like going at the same time. The kayak is from Wilderness Systems; it is a Tsunami 135 (not shown here, but scroll down to see the Tsunami 140 which is pretty close). It exceeds our wildest dreams - it is stable and fast and we love. We tried it a few times on those warm days we have had recently. The feeling of freedom is just awesome.
- I have a new job. It starts Sept 22 and I can't wait. I will be working on the applications designed by the previous company I worked for so I expect to be very comfortable in that environment. Plus I will be writing instructions which is a new direction I wanted to take in my career.
- We finally got a Wii Fit! We lined up at Future Shop 30 minutes before opening hour and secured a copy. Yay! Then we ran errands and so forth and were too tired to set it up by the time we got home. Go figure...

The Wonders of Nature

We rented a kayak for the first time ever this week. We had been out canoeing a few times in the past but were interested in kayaks for their lightness and the flexibility they afforded. Those things are light and fast as well as easy to maneuver. You can do a light or strenuous workout depending on your mood. Very versatile.
So. Because we planned to come back late, the owner of the little shop which was opened that day (it was hit and miss until we thought of Merrickville) was nice enough to allow us to call him home after the store was closed so he could retrieve his kayak. We followed him home to unload it once (instead of transferring the kayak from our car to his van). On our way back from Charleston Lake, we saw an inordinate number of frogs in the beams of the car. The shop owner told us that they migrated back to the river en masse every fall to bury themselves in the mud to hibernate. We were to swerve to avoid squishing them and we should keep an eye out for raccoons and skunks who were out hunting after the frogs to avoid accidentally killing prey and predators alike. What a kind, sweet man to be worrying about the wildlife around him, caring enough to instruct us on the preservation of these frogs. Earlier on, at the provincial park, we had to pay attention to the snakes, sunning themselves on the asphalt (we didn't see any, though there were lots of rustling noises when I went hiking). Lots happening around us as the critters get ready for the cold weather. We're still thinking water sports and enjoying those nice warm days.

Sign from above

I was waiting for Paul today and looked up towards the treetops. I enjoy the interplay between the bright green leaves and the clear blue sky. The contrast makes me smile with joy. On this particular day, my eye caught a glimpse of something floating down. I positioned myself so the feather - black, tiny, feathery and fragile - would land straight in my hands held palm upwards. I felt its caress as it landed softly. Where did it come from? I can only surmise an angel dropped it as she was flying over our property.

Random Acts of Beauty

We met a man who sows beautiful wildflowers seeds into wastelands.

Black & White

A friend of mine just came back from her first-ever trip to Poland in which she visited Auschwitz. I was stunned and intimidated when she mentioned that but she skimmed over her visit to the concentration camp saying it had been a difficult day and I did not dare press her. Last night, as I went to bed, I was remembering our conversation and wondering about my reluctance, as this is of interest to me.
I tried to imagine myself visiting a concentration camp. All I could see in my mind's eye were black and white pictures. I have seen, in College, actual footage of the liberation of concentration camps by the Allied forces. Those pictures were in black and white as color film had not yet been invented. I got the feeling that the books I had read never mentioned color. When you are busy surviving, color is not your main focus. I don't know if I was ever in the presence of a survivor but I certainly never broached the subject. I remember reading a book from Bruno Bettelheim, a psychoanalyst and survivor, in my teenage years (The Informed Heart).
I wonder if you feel the pain, sadness and dread. The fear must permeate this compound. I wonder if it feels ordinary and if you have trouble believing in the existence of such evil. I wonder if I would want to go... Would I feel like a voyeur? How could I explain my motivation/fascination? Why would I want to go to a place that I fully expect would make me feel so rotten? Maybe it is the hope that I would feel horrible that would draw me there. The expectation of powerfully feeling the pain of so many people. Or the necessity of not letting the past die.

For those of you who enjoy graphic novels, I strongly recommend Spiegelman's Maus on the subject.

Dreams

Awake dreams. Dreams of the soul. The kind you don't share, except with your closest friends lest they be crushed by indifference or scorn.
I am seeing friends getting hurt because they trusted others with their dreams and those trustees did not realize the precious treasure they were entrusted with and reacted as though this idea, this hope, this seed was nothing but an insignificant *thing* whose substance bore no sustenance, whose seed held no promise. They thrusted it aside like it did not matter. They did not see its shiny nascent wings, its moist gleaming eyes. It's just a fly, buzzing annoyingly they thought. How wrong. How cruel to swat it with the back of their hand. No regard for feeling. No thought for the progenitor of the dream. No compassion.
I am fortunate to have caring friends who listen to me, help me, nourish my hopes and applaud my efforts. My friends embrace my dreams and carry them in their hearts, and with them I accomplish them. My dreams are light and strong and so am I. Thanks to you and your support.

Trying to explain what I didn't like about the job I just left, I used the following analogy:
Last night, we were waiting for the steaks from the bbq and we had taken out larger than usual plates to accommodate them. I said: Yseult, can you give me the large plates please? Ha, they are not ready? Hmmm, you had promised them for 6:00 o'clock.
They will be ready in another 30 minutes? Well, the steaks are done. Can I do anything to speed things up? No - ok I will manage. We need to use the small plates (I say to noone in particular - I will be the one tracking them down).
Wait, the phone is ringing again.
- You have two large white plates and 1 large blue plate? I am afraid that won't do. We need to have contrast between the food and the plate and we want a consistent look. Thank you for trying.
- Will you have the plates ready early tomorrow? I will need them by 3:00 (we eat at 6:00 but I am adding a buffer because of this experience with my vendor). The chef is giving me grief for the smaller plates that don't do justice to his work.
This, in a nutshell, is what I did. Facilitate processes to keep the internal stakeholders happy...
And do I get extra wine for my efforts? Hardly.

Soljenitsyne

Soljenitsyne's death brings me back decades ago. My recollections are fuzzy but I remember that my father was deeply moved by his books. Seeing as his Gulag Archipelago was published in 1973, I cannot imagine I read it at the tender age of 10... I remember sleeping on the floor - or was it wanting to? - in an attempt to commiserate with the terrible fate of those who battled against all that stood in the way of freedom.

In my teenage years, I was in awe of revolutionaries. My best friend one year nicknamed herself Fidel; I was Mao. These people sounded like they were making terribly important changes (where was my thirst of freedom then?) and we were enthralled by their energy. No critical judgment - just passion and blind devotion.

It is difficult for me to remember the feelings I had then, now that their legacy is known or intuited... I cannot remember what fascinated me in those stories. I can only guess at absolutes and thirst for what was Right. An idealism that did not dwell on the shadowy sides of things, an innocence that made me believe propaganda at face value.

Atrocities and resilience, good and evil, right and wrong held me captive. Human nature is capable of all that? Can embrace all that?

I majored in psychology, trying to sort out this puzzle until it lost its urgency and life took over.

Thank you Soljenitsyne for shining a light on those shadows we would as soon forget. Thank you for revealing to me the compassionate side of my father.

Between Awe and Anguish

I've been meaning to write this blog for a long time but I keep forgetting. This morning it happened again and I was spurred into action. Sometimes when you are trying to post a comment, you have to pass a security test to avoid spams. There are some "dirty" or garbled letters you have to copy into a text field. It can be a mix of numbers and letters - either way, they are ineligible to a machine.
I am torn between awe and anguish. Awe for such a simple device: the brain automatically discards the white noise. It recognizes the shapes of letters and numbers instantly, in the same way that a person with colour blindness could make out a number in Time's big books where I, as a child, was struggling. The brain of a colour-blind person singles out the extraneous colours as mine was trying to make sense of it.
Anguish because I always get this pinch, something of a sinking feeling: can I pass this test? I don't breeze through this seemingly innocuous task. My brain rebels against nonsensical words. It is forever trying to make sense of things. S N S E - you mean "sense", right? Or did you want to write "sene" - more unusual but you are unusual, aren't you. I would know, I live in your head...
So I concentrate and write out what is there: BUL7P - buzzer sound: try again. I break into a cold sweat. I don't know what I did wrong because I am given a totally different set to transcribe. Is it easier? Do they give easier sets the second time around? What if I fail this one? Will my comment ever make it in? Is my comment worth the effort? Will it add anything to the discussion? What is this need to express my opinion, over and over again? Success! My comment is in! I forget the whole thing and move on.

Wet

Weather was never much of a topic for me. I usually get annoyed with people who are "obsessed" with weather. For me, it is what it is. The weather does not have much impact on my life, perhaps because I have retreated indoors much of the time. This year is a different matter. This year we are getting vegetables from a local farmer. The vegetables are not as plentiful as we were hoping because it`s been raining. No sun, just so much rain I swear I can see our grass growing.
We got huge cucumbers, mind you. I don't know how tasty large water-logged vegetables can be though. But I still prefer to eat local than eat a produce shipped from around the world (anybody for cheap garlic from China?). It just makes more sense.